A noise in the hall, perhaps a ghost on its rounds.
A creak on the floorboards and other weird sounds.
The darkness plunges before me in a mist of gloom.
I feel in my bones a great sense of doom.
A cat in the yard screeches a shrill note.
A feeling of dryness builds up in my throat.
Slowly my mind fades into the dark.
The next thing I hear is the sweet song of a Lark.
Peter Keane 2A.
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